


there are dogs on the loose, there are snakes in the desert.

by goabani



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Execution, Loss of Identity, Swiss Base Explosion, Talon Angela "Mercy" Ziegler
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 15:27:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11923788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goabani/pseuds/goabani
Summary: She doesn’t remember when it stopped; the flinch when she pulled the trigger, the twitch of her hand as she reloads, or the feeling of disgust and remorse for her patients when the pressure in their skull equalized through the bullet holes. She scours the entire property, high and low for survivors. She knew what was coming, she understood what would happen. They don’t deserve this, she reasoned, I’m doing them a favor.No one remembers the bright-eyed, cheery medic with big hopes and aspiring dreams. The doctor with a nurturing touch and a motherly voice. And no one will remember the empty-eyed medic that turns towards the sound of a transport ship amidst the pouring rain and simpers.





	there are dogs on the loose, there are snakes in the desert.

It has been five months since the Swiss HQ explosion and even longer since Angela has known the comfort of hospitality. Even before shit hit the fan, things were on the line, everyone strung up with tension and weltschmerz. The UN was pressuring the commanders into positions of controversy, the organization not ready to face the conspiracies and accusations of the public.

Stationed in the med bay all through the night, Angela “Mercy” Ziegler was breaking her back treating the inpatients. The facility was eerily quiet save for the repetitive blips of the life support and the ventilations hissing life into the wounded. A stark outcry of what the bustling base was just a week prior. She shuffled about, exhaustion tugging at her eyes and weighing her feet down with each step, but a stray beep caught her attention and she rushed across the room. Nothing of concern.

She let out a deep sigh, internal frustrations mingled in with the relief. Angela carefully reached out to stroke the boy’s forehead, sweeping the strawberry blond hair from the bandages wrapping his cranium. Victim of an explosion from local neighborhood in a town a couple dozen kilometers out. Parents were presumed dead on the scene and the boy, no younger than five, was struggling to emerge from a coma. No one was certain if he was going to make it.

Angela’s hand dropped to her side in a trembling fist, a deep inhale steadying herself before she became angry again; she always got upset, but she understood that it was only because it was her first year in the real world and not in the meager hospitals of America. But she was also painfully aware of what kind of life would have been ahead of him, all the possibilities of the good he could’ve done in this world gone in an instant because of an odd bombing.

Unclenching her hand, she idly rubbed where her nails had painfully indented the skin as she perked up. Listening intently, she could've sworn she heard something other than the winds outside, stronger than usual from the spring weather. A patient must've heard it as well, as the woman on the far side beside her desk groaned weakly and struggled to sit up.

“Sheiße, halten sie still, gnädige Frau!” Angela instructed as she swept by her desk to grab her clipboard and pen. Last thing her patient needed to do was to rip an IV out or unplug her respirator. Ducking down to adjust one of her patient’s bed level and fix a few awry wires, she didn't get to stand back up before it came. Falling back, her head hit the floor and she went out like a light. 

With a groan, she came to in a few seconds and the acrid smell of smoke filled her every sense. An explosion. The ringing in her ears cleared to detect the shrill screams of the fire alarms and inpatients, awoken in the chaos. Angela struggled to stand on trembling legs, using the desk as a support as she brought the com in her ear to life.

“Dr. Ziegler reporting, I need assistance in the med bay-” her only response was static on the other end, her pulse fluttering frantically as she moved to her nearest patient. “Morrison- Reyes! I need assistance in the med bay!” Angela yelled over the screeches of the alarms. The static was drowned out by her heartbeat pounding in her ears. She got to the first patient- an older woman alive just a few minutes prior when there was another explosion, distant but bigger than the last. 

The power flickered one last time and then shut off. 

Angela was reliving one of her biggest nightmares, frozen in the spot as she was forced to watch the mechanical ventilation systems shut down and the temporary haven collapse.

“No…no!” She screamed, staggering back as she glanced up at the spiderweb of cracks in the ceiling. Frozen like a deer in headlights, her trembling hands covered her mouth in shock. Angela could only stand there and watch as the medbay crumbled around her, the inpatients crying out as their frail and tragically independent bodies failed them. Frantically, she gaze shot to the side before she was moving towards the young boy once again. A sense of calm filled her as she worked as fast as her jittery hands allowed her, unhooking the young child from the IV’s and detaching the wires from his frail body. Just as her arms shot out to wrapp around the child, her whole world exploded in a flash of white, the wall ahead of her being blown out. 

Everything happened slowly, her eyes opening to squint at the bright summer sun and leaping flames as she was propelled across the room from the blast. Angela could feel the heat of the fire fade the further away she got. She didn’t have any time to save herself, to save anyone else, before her world went black once again when her skull collided with the desk.

She could’ve sworn she saw his dull blue eyes staring back at her.

Time has passed: that is the first thought that comes to Angela’s mind as she hears the steady patter of a heavy rain. She struggles to lift herself on unsteady arms, having to duck to avoid a possible concussion with the concrete pillar situated delicately above her. It was pure luck that she wasn’t crushed to death by said pillar, squeezing herself out of the puny opening it left for her; shoulders almost catching on the corners.

Rising on unsteady legs like a newborn, her first priority was herself for if she was injured, she was doing nobody any help. Patting herself down, she first noticed the pure exhaustion that threatened to weaken her knees and drag her down again. It was bone-deep and horrid as it ached with pangs so strong she felt nauseous.

Fortunately, that was it. A killer migraine and the energy of a dead man, she was the luckiest person in the facility she quickly comes to find. Once satisfied that she was ready to maneuver the new terrain of rubble and ash, it struck her.

Angela could feel the rain on her skin, soaking into her coat and gown. She looked about to find no walls were they were previously standing, no grand hallways connecting the laboratories and medical sections, nothing. No chatter of soldiers, yet not frantic calls of them searching for the others either. No commanders. No helicopters. No vehicles. No one was coming, and no one was going.

It was all gone, and she had to accept that. Had to understand that the furthest hospital was twice as far as the closest city, and even then all the patients were here as a last resort. No hospital in this country could keep up with their needs then, and they still can’t know. They were going to die here by God’s hand or her hand. Nothing on this Earth could have prepared her for this.

Every single patient she would stumble upon would be cold from the rain or getting there, struggling to stay alive despite the circumstances they couldn’t seem to understand around them. And each time, Angela had to stop their feeble fight.  _ For the better, _ she says as she aims at a young woman’s temple. She was pinned between the floor and the rubble of the wall that was besides her when it exploded; gasping through a lung full of blood and a caved-in face. There was another woman, in her late fifties from what the damp paperwork on her chattered clipboard had said. Conscious, scared. Her legs were shattered and nearly amputated, and Angela felt like a filthy farmer putting a lame mare down. Her shrill whinny ringing through the air as she registered the barrel of the gun being raised.

She doesn’t remember when it stopped; the flinch when she pulled the trigger, the twitch of her hand as she reloads, or the feeling of disgust and remorse for her patients when the pressure in their skull equalized through the bullet holes. She scours the entire property, high and low for survivors. She knew what was coming, she understood what would happen.  _ They don’t deserve this _ , she reasoned, _ I’m doing them a favor. _

No one remembers the bright-eyed, cheery medic with big hopes and aspiring dreams. The doctor with a nurturing touch and a motherly voice. And no one will remember the empty-eyed medic that turns towards the sound of a transport ship amidst the pouring rain and simpers. She doesn’t fight it, she doesn’t have to- doesn’t want to. Her old friend Amelie steps out of the ship, her skin unsaturated and dead as she stretches a hand out for her. It’s an offering. They weren’t going to execute her right then and there, no- they can do that after they drain her of her resources.

It feels wrong and she knows this isn’t right. Yet Angela still stands without a word to the Talon grunts nor the sleeper cell she considered to be an acquaintance once, pocketing her blaster and picking her way over to the transport herself. The agents milled around, finding nothing to do once they pieced together what the medic had been doing for the better part of three hours; their looks of disdain and hatred towards the former Overwatch doctor turning to awe and trepidation, and she didn’t know why.

That is, until Angela saw what she looks like with her reflection on the window, foggy with the humidity in the atmosphere. Her once pristine white lab coat was speckled in red and brown- whether a combination of mud and bodily fluids or just strictly blood was unbeknownst to her. Her hair was sticking out of her ponytail in every direction, which she finds to be quite annoying; sparing a moment in her self-evaluation to touch up. 

A grunt is caught staring at her by Miss Lacroix and gets a stern warning in the form of a knife through the femoral artery. When all she does is look to Angela to patch up the grunt, rapidly bleeding out, the medic relishes in the look of surprise on her face when she is given no other option than to unholster her gun.  _ What supplies did I have, he was going to die,  _ she bites her tongue from snapping when Amelie scoffs.

Miraculously, once she arrives on base she already has a welcoming party lined up. There are many familiar faces she recognizes as fellow Overwatch agents as she goes past. Angela feels the hatred burning inside her, almost certain those mutated freaks could hear her heart pounding with rage. It’s that moment that she swears on her life that each and every single one of them were going to justify their crimes with their blood.  _ It’s only fair for the amount of pain they have caused,  _ she snarls to herself as she catches each and every single one of their gazes with evenly matched malice.

Amelie’s- now Widowmaker’s hand rests on the small of her back, guiding her through corridors and hallways until they reach a small chamber. She tries for small talk, but stumbles messily through old memories of Overwatch and colleagues before accepting the fact the words fell on deaf ears, simply opting to usher the medic along. Filled with one bed with the sheets folded on the end, a sink, a toilet, and a shower with no means of privacy, Angela considers it a decent trade-off. There is a camera in the corner watching them as she enters the room fully.  _ I could be dead,  _ she muses with an outward sigh.

“Enjoy your stay, Dr. Ziegler,” Widowmaker grins without meaning, a simple pleasantry rolling off her tongue like she was scripted. The large metal door closes behind her, and upon trying it she finds it unlocked. She grimly acknowledges the unease in the sniper through the tour.

They know what she has done. They know what she will do. She barely makes it the toilet before throwing up. 

That occurs less and less over the weeks, she recalls one morning in the shower. She is bristling at the cold temperature, and she entertains herself with the thought of who she’d have to kill to get some hot water. She’ll look through the records, skim through the ranks, call for some checkups and get it over with.  _ They are nothing but filth to you, Angie,  _ she thinks to herself in her daily peptalk.

They stopped questioning the pile up of bodies after the first week she settled in. Less injuries from minor scuffles were being recorded by the day as the agents were scared shitless at the prospect of going to the med bay lest Mercy wasn’t feeling all too merry that day.  _ They don’t realize they’re giving me vacation time,  _ she jokes out loud to herself in the empty chamber of her room when she retires that night.

It is only when Angela makes it to head surgeon and mindlessly kills a grunt on her operating table for a mundane grudge does she realize. They can’t execute her. The higher ups have found too much use in a single, sick medic to do it. So she stares at the agent on the clean metal before her, gasping beneath the oxygen mask and twitching valiantly despite the anesthesia to fight the scalpel in his aorta.

_ I am better than all of them.  _ A toxic mindset.  _ I am stronger than all of them.  _ It is that very mindset that lands Angela her very first mission: Watchpoint Gibraltar.

**Author's Note:**

> "Sheiße, halten sie still, gnädige Frau!" - "Shit, hold still, miss/madam!"  
> //revs my engines-- i love me some angst. suggest things you want to see written and i'll consider them!


End file.
